Chapter 565: Arcadia, The First Planet In All Creation (XLIII)
The set fell into an awkward, tense silence after Marcus scurried away.
Aestrea remained seated in the director’s chair, with his legs crossed, exuding the kind of effortless authority that came naturally to someone who had spent lifetimes killing gods.
Crew members exchanged nervous glances, but no one dared speak.
The famous Aestrea Voss had always been known for his intense, sometimes terrifying focus on set, but this... this was on another level.
A few minutes later, the director, a well-known auteur named Harlan Reeves, approached cautiously, clipboard in hand and sweat already forming on his brow.
"Aestrea, thank God you’re here," Harlan said, forcing a professional smile.
"We’re running behind on the night scenes. The lighting is finally set, but we need you in wardrobe for the final touch-ups. The emotional climax of the film depends on this take. Are you... ready?"
Aestrea looked at him for a moment, then stood up smoothly.
"Let’s get it done."
He followed the director to the wardrobe trailer, where a team of stylists quickly adjusted his already impeccable suit, added subtle makeup for the camera, and ran through the scene notes.
Aestrea listened silently, absorbing the character’s motivations, a tortured anti-hero confronting his past sins in a rain-soaked alley.
It was almost funny.
The role mirrored too many of his real memories.
When they returned to set, the cameras were rolling.
The crew moved with hushed efficiency around him. Rain machines created a downpour over the carefully dressed alley set. Lights flashed like lightning.
"Action!"
Aestrea stepped into the scene like he belonged there.
His performance was raw, magnetic, and devastatingly real.
He delivered every line with the kind of intensity that had won him Oscars, his eyes burning with pain, voice cracking at the right moments, body language conveying decades of guilt and rage.
The crew watched in stunned silence as he brought the character to life in a way no one had seen before.
When the director finally called "Cut!", the entire set erupted in spontaneous applause. Even Harlan looked speechless.
"That... that was incredible," the director said, approaching him. "Best take we’ve had all week. Maybe all year. You really are something else, Aestrea."
Aestrea simply nodded, wiping fake rain from his face.
As the crew reset for the next shot, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from one of his rumored co-stars:
"Heard you’re on set. Want to grab a drink after wrap? We need to talk about those rumors..."
He ignored it.
The night shoot continued for several more hours. Aestrea threw himself into every scene with complete focus, losing himself in the role while still maintaining perfect control.
By the time they wrapped, the sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn.
Marcus approached him cautiously as he headed toward his car, still clearly shaken from earlier.
"Great work tonight, Aestrea," he spoke carefully.
"The dailies are going to be phenomenal. I’ll... I’ll have the schedule for tomorrow sent over first thing."
Aestrea stopped and looked at him for a moment.
"Don’t fuck up again," he said simply.
Marcus nodded rapidly and disappeared.
Aestrea got into his car and drove through the quiet streets of the city, the sports car’s engine purring softly as the first hints of dawn touched the horizon.
The night shoot had drained him in a way that felt strangely human.
He pulled into the private underground garage of his luxury apartment building and took the elevator up to the penthouse.
The doors opened with a soft ding, revealing the familiar minimalist luxury of his home.
But he wasn’t alone.
A stunning woman was waiting for him on the large sectional sofa near the floor-to-ceiling windows, legs crossed elegantly, a glass of red wine in her hand.
She was gorgeous.
Her name was Elara Sterling, no relation, just a coincidence that the tabloids loved to exploit.
She had long, silky raven-black hair that cascaded down her back in loose waves, framing a face that belonged on magazine covers.
High cheekbones, full lips painted a deep crimson, and striking emerald-green eyes that seemed to glow with both innocence and dangerous allure.
Her body was a perfect hourglass, full, firm breasts straining against an elegant black dress that hugged her curves, a narrow waist, and long, toned legs.
The dress had a high slit on one side, revealing smooth, flawless skin as she shifted slightly.
She was one of the hottest rising actresses in the industry, known for her sultry roles and undeniable chemistry with Aestrea on screen.
The rumors about them dating had been swirling for months.
Elara smiled when she saw him, setting the wine glass down on the coffee table.
"You finally showed up," she stated, her voice smooth and slightly husky. "I’ve been waiting for over an hour. Your agent said you’d be back soon after wrap."
Aestrea closed the elevator doors behind him and walked into the living room, loosening his tie as he approached.
"I had things to handle," he replied simply, stopping a few feet away from her.
"What are you doing here, Elara?"
At this moment, Aestrea had already gotten completely used to his new identity in this world.
"What am I doing here, huh?"
She stood up gracefully, the dress clinging to her body as she moved closer.
"Of course, I wanted to talk about the rumors," she said, tilting her head.
"And... about us. The studio is pushing hard for us to lean into the publicity. They think it’ll boost the movie. But I also just... missed you."
She reached out and gently adjusted his collar, her fingers brushing against his neck. Her emerald eyes locked onto his with a mix of professional charm and genuine desire.
"You look tired. Long night?"
Aestrea studied her for a moment.
In this illusory life, Elara was both a colleague and a complication, someone who blurred the lines between fiction and something more.
The Tower was clearly testing his ability to navigate personal relationships.
He sighed softly.
"Yeah. Long night."
Elara smiled, stepping even closer until her body was almost pressed against his.
"Then let me help you relax~," she whispered in a purr.
Elara smiled, her emerald eyes darkening with clear intent. Without another word, she placed both hands on his chest and pushed him backward gently but firmly.
Aestrea let himself be guided, stepping back until the back of his knees hit the large, plush sectional sofa.
He sat down, and Elara immediately climbed onto his lap, straddling him with graceful confidence.
Her dress rode up her thighs as she settled on him, the soft, warm weight of her body pressing down against his.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her massive breasts squishing firmly against his chest as she leaned in close.
"Mmm~ Much better," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.
"I’ve been thinking about this all night."
She rocked her hips slowly, grinding her core against the growing bulge in his pants. The thin fabric of her dress and his trousers did little to hide the heat building between them.
Aestrea’s hands rested on her waist, feeling the way her body moved against him.
Elara’s breathing was already growing heavier, her emerald eyes half-lidded with desire as she pressed herself closer, her massive breasts squishing warmly against his chest.
"Ahh~" she moaned into his ear.
As she continued her slow, teasing grind, Aestrea’s mind drifted into the memories this illusory identity provided.
In this life as Aestrea Voss, their relationship was complicated, a classic Hollywood entanglement that the tabloids loved to exploit but never fully understood.
They had started as co-stars on a major action-thriller two years ago.
The chemistry on screen had been electric, and one late-night wrap party had led to them hooking up in a hotel suite.
What was supposed to be a one-time thing quickly became a regular arrangement.
They were what people called sex friends, friends with benefits at the highest level. No strings, no public acknowledgment, no promises.
Just two attractive, successful people relieving stress and enjoying each other’s bodies whenever their schedules allowed.
But for Elara, it had never been just that.
Aestrea could feel it in the way she looked at him now, the way her hands gripped his shoulders a little too tightly, the way her hips rolled with a kind of desperate need that went beyond simple lust.
She had fallen for him.
Unrequited feelings that she tried to hide behind playful teasing and professional charm, but they were always there, simmering beneath the surface.
In this identity, Aestrea Voss had always kept things casual.
He had a reputation for being emotionally unavailable, the mysterious superstar who never committed, never posted couple photos, never gave the media what they wanted.
He had told Elara from the beginning that he wasn’t looking for a relationship.
His focus was on his career, his privacy, and the ghosts of his past that this illusory life had conveniently smoothed over.
She had agreed at the time, but over the months, her feelings had deepened.
She started texting him more often, showing up at his place unannounced, lingering after their nights together with soft kisses and whispered "stay with me" that he always gently deflected.
He knew she wanted more.
She wanted the real thing, dates in public, a real relationship, the kind of love story the tabloids would kill for.
But Aestrea Voss in this world couldn’t give her that. He was too guarded, too focused on maintaining the walls he had built after years of fame and betrayal in the industry.
He genuinely cared about her, but not enough to risk the complications a real relationship would bring.
And yet, here she was, grinding against him with that same mix of lust and unspoken love, her body telling him everything her words never quite could.
